Masked By Danger by Christa Wick

Chapter Six

A sharp crackle-snapof witch light followed the blast, its energy running electric fingers through his hair and down his spine.

A second sizzling hot explosion hit the air, this time more wolf than witch.

And this time, not aimed at him.

Immediately, Joelle buckled to the ground.

Though he didn’t need to glance over his shoulder to know the culprit in question was Iris, he damn sure shot his gaze her way, mainly so he could see his robe hugging her luscious curves.

His mate’s russet hair, wet from the shower, clung to the sides of her beautiful face, a few strands touching lush lips as plump and sexy as the rest of her.

Dropping the bag, he grabbed the wolfling by one arm and roughly hauled her to her feet.

With his mate's wrath pushing at his back, he stumbled into the drive, dragging Joelle's half limp form with him. He shoved her into the cab of her truck, his hands ransacking her jacket pockets for the key. Finding it, he shoved it into the ignition and turned the engine over.

"Can you drive?" He barked the question as he gave the girl a hard shake to rouse her senses.

She offered a faint nod. "Who was that?"

“That, little cub, was your alpha—"

Another snarl, this time with a flash of angry canines, erupted from the wolfling.

She was right to take exception to his words, but only technically.

Joelle's current alpha and his mate were in their fifties and managing a pack of twenty-five wolves.

But he said what he said and the words felt right to Cade.

The sheer power rolling off Iris had been almost enough to knock him off his feet. And he doubted she was even accustomed to wielding it fully yet.

When Iris finally let her wolf run free? He couldn't imagine an alpha, male or female, who could stand up to her.

“That woman who just laid you out was my mate," Cade rumbled. "And you'll damn well treat her as such. Now get the hell out of here before she fries your ass!”

He slammed the truck door and took a step back, glaring at the girl through the window until she threw the vehicle in gear and smashed her foot down on the accelerator. Shielding his face from the loose gravel the tires kicked up, he watched until she was safely out of his drive.

Cautiously turning toward the house, he saw that Iris hadn't moved from the hallway. Squaring his shoulders, he stalked back into his house, not stopping until he was no more than a foot from his mate.

Stiff and shaking, her arms crowded her curves and ended in clenched fists. Her wolf glowed in her gaze, a glint of silver hugging the outer side of each pupil like a crescent moon.

“What the hell, Iris?” he growled. As turned on as he was at the moment, he was also royally pissed off.

An alpha she-wolf like Iris wouldn't normally react so severely if a female—a weaker one, at that—were talking shit the way Joelle had been. No, that volatile a reaction could only have been triggered by one thing.

The scent of Joelle's arousal—for Cade.

Though the wolfling wasn't currently in heat, she’d been practically dripping with unquenched arousal. Mainly because it was unquenched, in that neither Cade nor his wolf had ever shown even the smallest, most remote attraction for the girl.

Not that it was any of Iris’s business.

Iris was the one who had rejected their mating. So where did she get off being territorial over him all these years later?

Iris took a step back, gaze darting in search of an escape route.

Cade growled at her retreat.

"You run away for twelve fucking years, years you should have been with me as my mate—" He raised his hand, warning against further retreat as Iris took another step away from him. "And you want to take a wolfling's head off because she drops a little juice around me?"

Lips quivering, Iris didn't reply.

Cade huffed at her, their bodies close enough that the warmth of his breath curled against her face.

The cool air sweeping in from the door he had left open did nothing to temper his anger or hot desire. He was ready to take her, didn't care if the entire world looked on, so great was his need.

He placed his palm on her shoulders, forced her against the wall. His gaze dipped to her throat and then his hand captured the silver necklace and jerked it from her once more.

Sweet heaven...

He let the scent of her heat wash over him, rolled with its force even as his knees turned liquid. She had always smelled so damn delicious, but this was entirely different. This was the promise of her, forever, their cubs, a stronger pack, a stronger clan. Hell, a stronger shifter nation.

His hands curled around the collar of the robe she wore. He leaned in, head angling so that his mouth could claim hers.

"No!" Her palms pushed against his chest, the strength surprising him.

The strength and the blistering sensation that came with her touch. Looking down, he saw her fingernails glowing.

"More silver, baby?" Absently licking his top lip, Cade grabbed her hand. Willing one of his nails longer and sharper, he scratched at the dark purple polish Iris wore. The paint flaked away to reveal a layer of silver beneath.

He rolled his lips, more confused than ever. Wolves were skittish around silver, especially when paired with magic. Iris wasn't a witch. He could see her wolf in her gaze, smell it, almost hear it scratching around inside her skull as it whined to escape. So why was his mate wearing silver, throwing witch light and speaking in tongues?

Dropping her hand, he grabbed the collar of the robe and pushed the edges aside. "Any more silver I should know about?"

Iris gasped. The sharp intake distracted him from the top swell of her breasts, yanked his gaze upward to her trembling lips. Leaning closer, his eyes drinking in the shape of her mouth, he let his fingertips touch her bare skin. His hips pushed forward, his cock upright and hard as it nestled against the soft curve of her stomach.

Locking his gaze with hers, Cade surfed his fingers along the swell of her breasts to find one swollen nipple. Another gasp, this one shared between them as he found the thin silver rod that pierced her flesh. Thumbing it, he felt her weight shift suddenly and knew Iris remained standing only from the hard press of his body against hers.

His tongue came out, tasting the air before it rested against his top row of teeth. Giving the nipple bar a gentle twist, he watched her eyelids flutter then shut.

He had her.

Silver or not, she would yield.

His other hand drifted down. Finding the soft fur of her sex, he parted her drenched folds, no longer surprised when he discovered more silver, this time a ring looped through her clit. The tip of his tongue quivered as he thought about snagging the ring with it, lifting and gently tugging the little piece of jewelry before he sought out the small pearl of pleasure tucked inside the hood.

His fingers and thumb did what his tongue couldn't yet do. He manipulated the ring, pushed it up once then down before his thumb rubbed a firm circle against the fleshiest part of her clit.

Mouth closing in on his mate's throat, he mumbled a question before his lips sealed around her hot flesh. "How the hell did the casters even find you?"

Some ten feet from where he stood with Iris, a feminine cough froze Cade in place.

"Well, we're marginally competent at our job—believe it or not."

Beneath his touch, Iris stiffened. The short, heavy breaths she had been gulping in as he stroked her ceased abruptly, her chest suddenly motionless. Cade moved so that his body shielded his mate. A growl rumbled past his lips, its rolling vibrations feral and protective.

Just inside his door stood Esme Gladwin, the new head of the Witches' Council. Her mate Denver stood next to her, but faced away from the scene they had interrupted. At the presence of another male shifter, fur bristled along Cade's hands and arms. His spine loosened, ready to snap and pop until he was in his wolf form.

"Don't even think about it," Denver growled, his head moving just enough to show a flash of fang and the corner glare of one topaz-colored eye.

"Oh, I'm thinking about it," Cade rumbled back.

He wouldn't lay so much as a finger on the witch. She was a friend. But Denver had barely inched into frenemy territory. The ginger-colored shifter had always been a pain in the ass, even when he'd been a pack beta in the Tennessee clan. Now that he'd been forced to step up as Esme's mate and stop downplaying the formidable power running through him, he was one snarl away from being a bloodied pain in the ass.

Esme half turned to Denver, her hand on his shoulder as she whispered sweet nothings in an attempt to calm him. When witch light seeped from her fingers to settle against his clothes, he offered a softer growl, one meant to warn without frightening.

"He doesn't get to threaten you like that—no one does."

She rose on her tiptoes, one palm curling around the back of Denver's skull so that he tilted it forward and their foreheads briefly touched.

"He wasn't," she softly corrected. "He was threatening you. Protecting her. You'd do the same."

When she had her quarrelsome mate under control, Esme looked at Cade, her expression contrite.

"I'm sorry. I sensed both an amazing power fluctuation and a high distress level..." Her hand gestured at the front door Cade had left open. "But I should have held back."

"No." Her tone cold and precise, Iris spoke over Cade's shoulder. "You were right to enter. What you saw wasn't...consensual."

Cade watched, frozen inside, as a smirk crawled up the side of Denver's face. He focused on the man's amused sneer, trying to forget the lie that had just escaped his mate's lips.

At least he hoped it was a lie.

He didn't want to think that the wet, swollen folds he had just fingered were the product of fear.

Blinking, he dropped his head, his gaze tracing the blue whorls in his carpet as his lips mashed and slid against one another. He stepped forward, no longer shielding Iris so that she had to scramble to close the robe.

Somehow, he forced his feet to keep moving until he reached the couch and plopped down.

"Uhm..." Esme gave another little cough as Iris fumbled with the robe's sash. The witch's gaze landed on the duffel, her expression brightening. "Clothes?"

Cade grunted as she swept the bag up and started toward Iris.

"I know it's getting late," Esme prattled amicably as she crossed the front room. "And it's certainly been a challenging day. But we really need to discuss what happened—and, no offense, figure out…well, what you are. We were a full mile out when I felt a power spike…then some she-wolf in a truck almost hit us at the drive's turn in, and…"

Pausing, the witch barked out a nervous laugh.

"I should shut up and let you get dressed."

Cade heard the crisp brush of canvas as Esme handed the duffel bag off to a still silent Iris. He wanted to look over his shoulder at the women, to get a read on Iris's face and body language, but he knew that would only sink the blade she had just gutted him with another inch deeper.

He could feel the cold rolling off her just as distinctly as he had felt her blistering heat.

"I'll get us some tea going and something to eat while you change," Esme offered as she returned to the front room.

When the witch's gentle touch landed on his hand, Cade looked up to find Esme's face lit with a familiar and tender concern. He had a second to feel like a total shit for snarling at one of his best friends before he heard the fresh crackle of witch light from the hall and the force of Iris's wolf rising up.

Denver spun, ready to respond to any threat directed at his mate. Esme removed her hand from Cade, her other arm extending behind her, fingers splayed in a stop motion to quiet Denver. She smiled in the direction of the hall, her gaze asking forgiveness from the she-wolf at the unintended trespass. A heartbeat later, the bathroom door slammed shut.

Cade wiped a shaky hand across his forehead before releasing the breath he'd been holding at the second flare of his mate's jealousy. He didn't know whether to laugh or howl.

Not consensual, my ass.