Wicked Wolf (Wicked Ever After Book 3) Read online

  I was nineteen. It was January, and she was in my bed, laughing, and I was content.

  "Where is he?" I ask, pressing a kiss into her throat. Scarlet purrs her satisfaction and arches her neck, giving me more access.

  "Had to go back to Atlanta to pick up my allergy meds."

  I pull away, frowning at her a little petulantly. There's a movie on and she's curled around me, eyes closed and sugar sweet.

  "What are you allergic to?"

  She snorts and shifts her weight, straddling me and rolling her hips to push me into the bed. I’m pretty sure Hunt would have some serious issues with this, but I quit trying to figure out their relationship a few years ago.

  "What am I not allergic to? Strawberries, walnuts, most flowers, coconut, half the citrus fruits and the other half aren't super fun, peanuts, shellfish, a type of pepper Grandmama likes to cook with—oh, god she was pissed about that one, too. " She rolls her hips again and I hiss. With a shrug, she says, "Lots of things.”

  "You should have told me. I'd be more careful."

  She laughs, breathy and somewhere in the middle it twists into a moan that makes my eyes roll back and my hips roll up, and she leans down, breathing words into my mouth. "I like that you aren't careful with me, Wolf."

  I catch a fistful of hair and yank her head back and she groans for real then, and I forget for a little while about all the ways she could so easily die.

  I'm nineteen and she's in my bed and moving under me, pliant, sweet surrender, and I am content with everything I am given.

  ~

  We’re in another fucking hospital and I really want to punch something. Hunter is a tense presence at my side and it feels so much like the night five weeks ago that I almost lose it completely right then.

  I know she’s fine. The doctors gave us that happy bit of news an hour ago, when they got the anaphylactic shock under control. But it doesn’t mean—

  I open my mouth to speak and Hunter’s eyes snap to me, full of fury and warning, and I close it again.

  I’ve let them down enough for today. I’ll leave tomorrow, when she’s home and he’s got her safe and content—but not yet.

  Not yet.

  “Gentlemen? She’d like to see you.” The nurse gives us a cheerful smile that seems a little macabre given the circumstances, then she leads us into the back.

  Scarlet is sitting in a little hospital dressing gown, and she looks as ridiculous as she does adorable.

  “Get me out of here,” she orders, as soon as we enter the room.

  “Calm down, roja,” Hunter says, placating, and she snarls.

  “Don’t you fucking Roja me. That was Sal’s goddamned move, and now I’m in some fucking hospital while you should be back at HQ taking care of this.”

  She looks furious. “Walnuts. That bastard tried to fucking feed me walnuts. We haven’t had any of my allergens on the damn property since I was ten years old!”

  The nurse’s upbeat, cheerful tone interrupts. “You should calm down, ma’am. It’ll help your healing.”

  Scarlet actually pauses her tirade to stare at the crazy, peppy nurse.

  “Good. Now, I’ll be back with your discharge papers in just a jif,” Nurse Mc-Fucking-Joy chirps before she actually bounces out of the room.

  Scarlet shakes her head. “Jesus, someone gave her the really good drugs, didn’t they?”

  Hunter snorts and steps forward. “Roja, I know that you’re upset, but Wolf already had his assistant look through the security cameras. We caught Sal red-handed, right on tape, tampering with the food. He never even knew we installed them in the kitchens as a precaution, thank God. He’s in police custody as we speak, and I’m investigating the caterer, too, just in case. We’ve won, and we will celebrate later, but right now, our focus is you and your health. You need to allow us to care for you.”

  She scowls, eyes narrowed and still on edge. “My company is truly safe then, Caesar?”

  He nods and kisses her forehead. “It’s safe, carina.”

  ~

  I don’t fall apart. I’m actually pretty fucking proud of that fact. I smile and express the right amount of worry, say the right words at the right time, and let her lean against me in the car on the way home.

  I don’t fall apart.

  At least, not until we’re home and she’s shivery and tired against Hunter, all of her rage drained away and replaced by almost numb exhaustion.

  “You hungry?” Hunter murmurs and she shakes her head against his chest, listless, and it’s breaking something in me.

  Shattering me wide open.

  I’ve kept my shit together, but now I’m about to fall apart and I need to get out.

  I start to turn away, but Hunter catches me. “Bring her some soup?”

  There is something in his tone that makes me obey. The sub side of me can’t not. I kind of want to hate him for it, though.

  Instead, I nod and I go heat some up for her.

  He meets me on the staircase, a bowl of chicken rice soup in my hands. He eyes it briefly and then looks at me. “She isn’t allergic to anything in it,” I say sharply, defensive. “And my mom—she used to make this for me.”

  Something softens in his face and he reaches for me. “She’s ok, Wolf.”

  I shudder and duck away from his touch. “Would you grab her some crackers and Tylenol? She might have a headache later.”

  “She has one now,” he murmurs and he slips past, and I go upstairs.

  Scarlet’s room is cast in shadows and she is ensconced in the bed, curled up in a fluffy blanket and too many pillows.

  It hurts, to see her looking small and hurt in a bed. I’ve only ever seen her wildly alive in bed and I want, desperately, to see her that way again.

  She hums a little when I put the soup on the bedside table, and her hand catches mine as I begin to retreat.

  “Don’t go,” she whispers, and I close my eyes. “Please, Wolf. Don’t. Please don’t go.”

  I want to ask if she means right now or quitting the job—or if she means forever.

  I want it so much that the question is crowding against my teeth, and I can’t do that.

  I slide out of my jeans and tug off my t-shirt, then crawl into bed with her. She makes a noise that is pure contentment and nestles closer to me, fitting herself to my side like it’s where she belongs.

  It terrifies me how much it feels like she belongs there.

  Hunter doesn’t comment when he slips under the blankets with us, just spoons up behind her, twisting his fingers between mine and stares at me over her sleeping body, his eyes bright and happy in the darkness.

  I close my eyes against it, and the sting of want.

  ~

  I fall asleep there, and wake to a dream.

  Scarlet is gasping, her body moving against mine as her mouth sucks kisses into my skin, and the low murmur of Hunter’s voice is pressing into her skin as he fucks her slowly from behind.

  She is still curled against me, and he is still pressed to her back, and every slow thrust pushes her against my cock.

  I’m not sure if it’s being sleep drunk, or the stress of the day, or just every fucking thing in our long history, but I reach for her and she groans, hips rolling up as I rub a slow circle over her clit.

  Hunter is watching me over the curve of her shoulder, and I smirk at him at I tilt Scarlet’s face up and then kiss her. I’m still playing with her pretty pussy as she keens into my mouth, and I swallow the noise, pinching her. She cries out, body locking up and coming hard, and I push them both back then, sliding down her body, leaving a trail of wet kisses in my wake.

  Hunter nudges her legs wider apart, and the sight of his thick cock sliding into her, thick and wet, sends a shiver of arousal through me. She’s whining, struggling against his hold for more.

  I dip my head down and slide my tongue over them both. Curses escape Hunter’s lips and Scarlet shakes, gasping my name. I do it again, quick and delicate, swiping further up against her c
lit, and her mouth falls open in a silent scream, back arching as he fucks up into her, and God, they’re fucking gorgeous.

  Scarlet smiles down at me, sleepy and sated. “You aren’t so bad yourself, Wolf.”

  Oh. Apparently I said that aloud.

  She pats Hunter’s hand and he releases her, waiting as she rolls off his body gracelessly before catching me and dragging me up his.

  I’ll never get over kissing Hunter—the way he pours every bit of himself into it, the way he is patient and slow, coaxing me to let him in, and swallowing my little gasp when Scarlet settles behind me, her fingers wet and cool against my ass as she works me open with teasing touches and soft praise.

  I groan, breaking the kiss to pant against his shoulder and he turns, licking at the curve of my ear. “Wanna fuck you, cachorro. Let me?”

  I groan and roll my hips, trying to fuck back on Scarlet’s fingers. She laughs and he swears. “Fuck, you two. So goddamn gorgeous.”

  She purrs, “He’s tight, babe. You’re gonna love this.”

  Hunter hums, digging his teeth into my skin and I wail, writhing between her fingers and his mouth and the fucking ache to come, building.

  “I always do,” he murmurs and she laughs again.

  Scarlet always laughs, during sex. It’s one of the things I love about her.

  She drags the pad of a finger over my prostate and rubs at my rim, and I break. “Fuck, enough, please, fuck me. I’m ready. Hunt, please.”

  She’s gasping through her laughter now. “God, he’s pretty when he begs.”

  “Sadist,” I spit weakly, and then moan as she shoves her fingers hard and deep in me, nailing that tiny bundle of nerves.

  “Enough,” Hunter says abruptly, and dumps me off his lap.

  Scarlet smiles as he kisses her and then she stretches out on the bed, flushed and pliant. He slides behind me and presses a kiss to my shoulder. He whispers a demand that leaves me groaning. “Fuck her.”

  We’ve only done this once, years ago.

  I slip over her and her legs fall open, shameless and inviting as I drive into her. Scarlet’s whole body arches into me, and I gasp, because she’s wet and silky smooth.

  It’s easy, fucking her, both familiar and strange. It feels, as with every time before, like some impossible thing.

  “Fucking beautiful,” Hunter murmurs. His cool quiet is slipping already, and his fingers push into me, stretching me just a little bit more and I’m breathing heavily now, my rhythm faltering as I try to ride his fingers and fuck her at the same time.

  Then his fingers are gone, Scarlet is dragging me down to kiss her, and he’s pushing into me.

  “God,” he hisses.

  She writhes under me as Hunter slides all the way in, forcing me into her, then dragging me back with him when he pulls up. It’s a fucking loop of pleasure, and my eyes are closing because it’s everywhere—draped over my back and pressed against my front, everything I want wrapped around me.

  “Want this,” I gasp as he snaps his hips and she arches under me again. God, his teeth close on the back of my neck, sharp and stinging and I yell as I come, thrusting hard into her as she trembles with her own orgasm. Hunter catches my hips, drags me up just enough and thrusts, hard and fast, his hands bruisingly tight as he fucks me.

  “Want this,” I gasp again and he comes, groaning and cursing, his body buried in mine, shuddering and wet and I feel my cock twitch again, a hopeful, stupid thing.

  We collapse there, while Scarlet giggles and wiggles out from under us and Hunter flails around for something to clean us up and I—

  I don’t move. I just lay there, limp, blissed out, and almost asleep.

  “God,” I mumble against my pillow, exhaustion tugging me down. “Want this. Want you.”

  Distantly, I feel them go still and startled around me. Then Scarlet laughs, soft and pleased, and Hunter is tugging me into him. Belatedly, I realize I’ve somehow becomes the middle of this sandwich, but then Hunter is kissing my shoulder and murmuring, “We do too, cachorro.”

  There’s a flailing moment of what the fuck, but exhaustion wins, and I surrender to the siren song of sleep.

  Chapter 13.

  I wake slowly, surrounded by heat and the press of warm lips against my skin.

  It filters back, in bits and pieces. There’s the hospital and my rage, the way she pulled me into her bed, and then the sex in the night.

  I want this.

  And, like a call and refrain, Hunter murmuring back, We do, too.

  I shudder and the arm around me tightens, tugging me closer to him. “You’re freaking out,” Hunter mumbles into my hair, and I twitch away from him, minutely.

  “Stop it,” Hunter snaps, a little tart.

  “Hunt, let me go.”

  “Why?” he demands. “Why can’t you have this? Why can’t you be with us?”

  I go still, panic clawing at me for a long enough moment that I actually gasp when I inhale.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “How the hell would you know?” he says, tired. He sounds so goddamn tired.

  “We want this,” Scarlet says, shifting against me.

  I make a small, pained noise, because their words are cutting me. They’re offering me everything I’ve ever wanted, but I know I can’t keep it, and it fucking hurts.

  “Don’t,” I gasp, shoving out of bed. Hunter scrambles to keep hold of me and I shake him off, shake them both off, and almost fall in my rush to get away from them.

  “I wanted to keep you,” Hunter says.

  I look at him, my eyes wide, pretty sure my mouth is hanging open.

  “Since the first time, Wolf. I’ve wanted to keep you.”

  “You don’t get to fucking say things like that,” I bite off.

  He shrugs. “Even if it’s true?”

  “If it were true,” I snarl, “you two wouldn’t have lived your goddamned fairytale for the past decade while I watched like the villain of the fucking story.”

  He frowns and Scarlet sits up, her eyes wide and shocked. She’s still naked and there are marks on her neck, where I bit and sucked bruises last night.

  It makes me sick, how right they look there.

  “I’ve been your toy, a titillating distraction, for a fucking decade. And I let you—God, I let you make me that. I wanted you to make me that, because I figured, fuck it. If I can’t have this, I can have that little piece of you. I can be that for you.” I shake my head. My eyes are burning, prickling with wetness, which is fucking ludicrous.

  “Charles,” Scarlet says, “it was never—“

  “Don’t,” I shout, my composure cracking.

  I can’t do this.

  I can’t watch her staring at me like that, her eyes wide and hurt, and Hunter—he is still and patient and watchful, his gaze never leaving mine as I scramble away from them, and he catches her arm before she can crawl off the bed and follow me.

  “No, roja. Let him go.”

  The noise she makes, a feeble protest, hurts more than it should, but it doesn’t stop me as I leave them there.

  ~

  I was nineteen and it was June and she was staring at me, a smile on her lips that seemed sad, somehow.

  Hunter slips into the room, sliding in behind Scarlet and wrapping an arm around her waist. He looks exhausted, and when she leans into him, I’m not sure who is supporting who.

  “Did you tell him?” he murmurs and she shakes her head, biting her lip.

  My stomach pitches, and I take a half step back.

  Running is my first, best defense—always has been.

  I already know I don’t want to hear whatever the fuck she’s about to say.

  “He asked me to marry him,” she says quickly, ripping the bandaid off.

  I close my eyes and take a breath. I breathe through the sting of betrayal and loss and God, it fucking hurts.

  “Congrats,” I say, my lips numb, and she makes a broken sound as she reaches for me. I step back, pulling
away from her as Hunter catches her arm and holds her still—holds her at his side.

  I can’t look at him.

  If I look at him, I’ll demand to know why. Why her? Why him?

  Why not me?

  “I hope you’re happy,” I say, and I actually mean it, but she flinches and his expression goes somber.

  I leave them there, in that empty room, and shrug out of my graduation robe. Stan and the rest of the family is here, not that I think for one fucking second they’re here for me.

  Mal and Charming and Beast are here too, and I know that they’re waiting for me.

  I just can’t bring myself to care.

  I climb on my bike and I ride, until my body is numb and my head is empty, and I can’t feel anything but the wind.

  I enlist in the Army two days later.

  I’m nineteen and it’s June and my world has just come crashing down around me.

  ~

  When I can’t deal with shit, I run. It’s been my MO since I was fourteen and Mom shacked up with a producer who liked me a little more than I was comfortable with. I ran then, and I ran when he left her. I ran when she dumped me with Stan and I ran when he dumped me at Wilderwood, and I only quit running because Mal gave a shit and gave me Beast and Charming, who care so damn much I couldn’t run.

  I ran again, when they got engaged, all the way to the fucking Army and Afghanistan, and I only looked back when Mal beat the shit out of me and Beast broke down in my living room, worried out of his mind.

  I have really good friends.

  Now, though, I can’t run the way I did then. I have a job, a company, and people who care. It’s driving me out of my fucking skin to be here, so I climb on my bike and I ride to the border of Georgia and, when that’s not enough and I can still hear their voices echoing in my head, I ride to Kentucky.

  I get really drunk at a bar in the middle of nowhere, and get into a spectacular bar fight when I hit on the wrong couple—although the problem might have just been that they were a couple.

  I’d probably keep running still, but I get tossed into a jail cell to sober up. When I wake with a pounding head and a mouth so damn dry I can feel my tongue swelling, it’s to see Charm and Beast watching me through the bars of my cell.