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"What the hell is going on?"Mosa growled, her green eyes flickering like emerald flames when I jumped into the cellar with her.
My mouth bobbed open, shut, then launched into a repeating pattern that heated my cheeks with embarrassment. Outside, Taron's motorcycle rumbled to life, quickly followed by the quieter idling of the tactical van. Both men were signaling that it was time to get the show on the road.
I was at a loss. Mosa may have despised most of the shifters she grew up around—but she had at least grown up around shifters. She knew at some level what she was from the time she could cognitively appreciate that she existed at all. For more than my first decade and a half, my social circle consisted solely of an old rancher who had unknowingly killed my mother without possessing the slightest idea of what she was when he took the shot at the wolf that had killed several of his sheep. Once he realized what she was, he kept silent until there was no other choice.
My ignorance had cloaked me for half my life. Not that I didn't figure out how different I was the first time I shifted. Winston told me there were legends of beings like me, but that most people only thought of them as tall tales resulting from hallucinations, misunderstandings, or outright madness.
He taught me to live as a human would, not as a shapeshifter. And he wouldn't let me anywhere near the popular literature on the topic of werewolves and such while he was still alive. Once he died, I sampled some of it, but it was clear the people making the movies and writing the books didn't have a damn idea about what I was. I might be more in tune with earth and sky than the average human, but the moon didn't drive me crazy, make me shift, or possess me with a craving for human flesh. After a night running in my wolf form, I sure as hell could murder a platter of bacon cheddar cheeseburgers, but I bought my meat at the store or hunted for it with my rifle.
When I wanted to change, I changed. And when I was overly worked up—early on, at least—my body tried to change without my mind willing it. That seemed to be the same with the shifters I'd found in Night Falls. When arguments broke out at the clubhouse, everyone could get a little hairy even if they didn’t shift.
What I didn't know about when I arrived were things like pack structure or that not every shifter had an alpha form they took. I didn't know what it meant to be alpha or the benefits and burdens that came with it.
"My mom is in a cage right now if she's alive at all," Mosa warned through clenched teeth. "I need to get in that damn van!”
With a determined slowness, I began to advance on her. I hadn't fooled around with any of the female shifters I'd met in Night Falls. Hadn't wanted to. And I'd only fooled around with human women to a limited extent. Not knowing the depths of what I didn't know, I wasn't going to risk making a baby. Not even with a condom on.
So I touched them, let them touch me. I covered their sex with my mouth, fingered them front and back. And when I had them wet, stretched, and glowing with satisfaction, I took pleasure with my cock in their mouth or ass.
I had no idea what level of experience Mosa possessed. She felt shyer than fuck in certain ways. Seeing me naked had left her blushing and averting her eyes. And she had shielded her body as best she could when I caught up to her naked.
"Mosaic," I started as I slowly advanced on her. "Are you a virgin?"
A battery of emotions flickered across her face. The first one was shock, followed by embarrassment, then a touch of anger, until everything melted into a bruised sadness.
"My pussy is some kind of commodity to be traded in marriage to preserve the leap's structure and harmony,” she snapped before throwing an apologetic glance my way. “That's what happened to my mother, with all the misery it caused her. That was my lot in life until she helped me escaped. Now she's being punished for that—if she's even alive!"
Her cadence became erratic at the end. I continued inching toward her until she backed into the cellar's earthen wall.
"I'm not going to pretend I understand thismatething. There's nothing like it in the human world, and the human world is all I've known for most of my life." Curling a palm around the curve of Mosa’s cheek, I forced her to look up. "I know I want you. And I can sure as hell feel spikes of energy shooting from you that wrap straight around my cock and squeeze until I can't think or breathe."
She said nothing in reply, but there was a little nod of her head that suggested she felt something like what I was experiencing. Only she didn't have a cock, she had a warm, fragrant pussy driving my senses wild. What did it feel like for her, that arousal?
"So," I continued after an awkward pause. "I'm gonna do this alpha thing that I also don't really understand yet and take care of you."
Her face puckered in confusion, the distortions doing nothing to diminish how damn beautiful she was.
"No time to explain," I said, sinking down to my knees. "But, if you really need me to stop, sayWinchester."
"Winchester?"
Knowing she wasn't telling me to stop, I looked up at her beautiful face, the light brown cheeks blushing a dark red. "Yeah, it's a rifle."
"I know it's a damn rifle!” she snapped in frustration. "It's also the family name for some fictional monster hunters who kill people like us."
"Should I use Remington?" I asked, totally serious and completely ignorant about whatever show she had mentioned.
Growling, she knotted her fingers in my hair.
"When I want you to stop, I'll punch you in the face, how about that?"
I laughed, my skin flushing hot.
"Okay, kitten."
Her face darkened with another blush, but I was already starting to look away. Her scent pushed at my nose, twisted my tongue. She wasn't angry. She was the right kind of wet, the horny kind, not the afraid or angry kind that could make a woman seem like she wanted it when she didn't.
I should have started with kissing her mouth, her neck, manipulating her plentiful breasts with big hands that could cover them. I should have been working my way slowly down her body instead of already undoing the button and zipper on her jeans.
