“Jules.” She tugged on his hips, encouraging him to go faster. “Need it.”

“Want to come again?”

Her nails raked down his back, scoring him. He hissed, the pain driving him deeper into her. She’d drawn blood, and he refused to heal it. Let it scar. If his mate wanted her claw marks in his flesh, so be it.

He lifted her legs, automatically healing the muscles she’d overworked that day hunting for a lunatic. Julian saw the way her eyes narrowed but didn’t care. She wanted to be fucked hard, then she had to be able to take it. He rested her calves on his shoulders and began to pound her so hard the bed shook. This time, he was going to come with her.

Her skin glistened from the oil in the light of the candle. She clenched the sheets in a white-knuckled grip. Her head tossed from side to side, and the sweetest little moans were pouring from her mouth. “Come on, Cyn. Come for me.”

She brushed her fingers across the mark on her neck over and over, driving her closer to orgasm. He held on to her legs, waiting for her to fall.

Cyn shuddered. “Oh fuck. Fuck.” She gave off one choked off cry and came, so tightly wrapped around him that he followed her over that glorious edge. His vision went black as pleasure roared through him, white-hot and molten, pouring from him in waves. It took everything in him not to collapse on top of her, but it was close. They were nose to nose when he regained his senses.

“Wow.”

He smiled wearily. “Like your massage?”

Her expression was full of lazy satisfaction, like a cat that had gotten not only the cream, but the bowl too. “Enough to offer you one the next time your muscles are sore.”

“Ah, so this was a sixty-eight.”

She giggled. “You do me and I owe you one?”

“Damn straight.”

She pulled him close and cuddled him, stroking his hair. “Let me know when you want to collect.”

Chapter Nineteen

It was killing him. It was fucking killing him that she was out there, risking her life, and he was stuck in the house, healing. He should be out there with her, protecting her. What if that son of a bitch got a shot off? Julian didn’t think he would be able to live with himself if anything happened to her and he wasn’t there to prevent it.

Julian ran his hands wearily through his hair. Who the hell was he kidding? She’d already been damaged and he hadn’t been there to take care of her. He tugged on his hair, frustrated beyond belief. Sometimes it seemed like since he’d moved to Halle there had been nothing but one huge fuck up after another. He hadn’t been able to protect Tabby when Gary had gone after her in the woods. He hadn’t been there to save Glory when she’d been shot. He sure as fuck hadn’t been able to save Marie, and Jamie… No one knew if Jamie would ever be the same again. Jamie still hadn’t woken up and it’d been three weeks since Marie’s death. Her father had flown in, heartbroken over the loss of his only daughter, and made the funeral arrangements. Jamie’s parents and brother had attended in her mate’s place.

Jamie’s brother, Grayson, had come to see him and had quietly thanked him for saving Jamie. Gray had been the complete opposite of Jamie, quiet and reserved. It wasn’t just because of the tragedy. Gray was like a deep, still pond, where Jamie had been more like playful ocean waves. Gray had stayed, making Julian lunch, commiserating with him over Cyn’s role in finding the killer.

He’d offered to be one of her shadows, protecting her where Julian couldn’t. Julian thanked him, but declined. He couldn’t allow Gray to risk himself. Jamie’s family had been through enough. Gray had accepted with quiet graciousness, but Julian wasn’t certain whether or not Gray had gone hunting anyway. He sincerely hoped not.

He shivered, chilled to the bone. The restless itch that had been under his skin since Cyn had walked out of the house that night was getting worse. He began to pace, rubbing his arms as goose bumps rose all over them. Something was seriously wrong, and all of it centered on Cyn.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on what it could be, but he was too restless. He settled down on the floor and crossed his legs, settling down into the pose he used for meditation. He wasn’t planning on heading into the spirit world to speak to Bear, but if he could calm his racing heart he might be able to sense the threat to his mate. If he were truly lucky, Bear would send him a vision. Even if his spirit visions weren’t as in-depth as Tai’s, they were always accurate.

Deep, soothing breaths helped to relax him. He focused his mind on the color white, the color of snow, the color of Bear. His breathing began to even out, his thoughts settling, his heart rate slowing down. He let the color white go, waiting patiently to see what would come to him.

Blood began to drift down the white. As he watched, the simple, flat white took on texture and form. His view drifted back and up until he was staring down at a prone body, it’s white hair streaked with red. Beneath the body a pool of blood spread. But what truly terrified him was a familiar mop of blond, pink and black hair. Cyn was lying beneath him, one arm flung out to the side, the T-shirt she’d been wearing that night when she left the house soaking wet.

It was then he realized it wasn’t his blood on the ground. He blinked, shattering the vision as memories of Marie’s blood splattered hair superimposed themselves over that of Cyn.

He stood, his hands automatically braiding his hair so it would be out of his way. Changing into jeans and a T-shirt, he shoved his bare feet into his sneakers and raced out the door. He barely remembered to grab his car keys and his wallet, and he was sliding into his car, ready to take off to where Cyn had said they were laying their ambush for the night.

“Julian DuCharme?”

Julian turned to see who called to him, and stared at a strange Wolf. The Wolf exuded an aura that he’d only sensed in the presence of Max Cannon and Richard Lowell. He had a thick southern accent reminiscent of Tabby’s. His light brown hair and eyes practically glowed under the streetlight. “Who are you?”

The man held his hands at his sides, indicating he was unarmed. “My name is Micah Boyd.”

Why was that name so familiar? A trickle of unease shivered down Julian’s spine. Whoever this man was, he was somehow connected to what was happening to the girls.

“I’m the Alpha of the Marietta Pack. I’m looking for Tabitha Garwood.”

Oh, shit. This was the man Tabby had been exiled from her birth Pack over. At the age of fifteen she’d been Outcast while dating him, the old Alpha accusing her of robbing his home when she’d simply been trying to escape Micah’s bedroom unnoticed. If he was here Alex was going to shit a brick. “Tabby’s not here.”