Real Men Claim: Real Men Shift Read online

  His cock had never been so hard in his life, and it pulsed against her body like a beating heart. She gasped when he took her face in his hands and started kissing every square inch he could. Then she clutched the front of the thin cotton gown. Before she could chide him for getting out of bed, his lips closed on hers and she practically melted in his arms.

  Triumph and lust flooded his veins. Even the ever-so-professional healer couldn’t resist him once he had his mouth on her. Her lips were satiny soft under him as his tongue invaded her, and he couldn’t stop his hands from exploring every inch of her body that her clothing would allow.

  Stupid clothes!

  Her hair looked and felt like gold as it ran through his fingers. The pencil that held her bun in place slipped out easily, allowing those gorgeous locks to fall over her shoulders. It looked just as he’d imagined. He craved everything about her, and he didn’t want to wait another minute to claim her.

  “Mine,” he growled, sending a shiver down her spine that he could feel.

  His hands ran down her back and across her sides until they came to a stop on her hips, where they took their time exploring the spread of them, the way the flesh yielded to his touch, yet was as strong as a steel girder. Sliding his hands behind her, he reveled in the swell of her ass, cherishing every curve as he pulled her against him.

  As hard as he was, her desire filled the air of the tiny clinic so thickly it caught in his throat. Yet he sensed hesitation within her, a thin ribbon of doubt. Why? Their connection had drawn him out of the forest as he bled to death. It brought her out of her cabin in time to save him. They both felt it. They knew it was real. So why the misgivings?

  Pulling away, he let his gaze penetrate her, trying to find the answers in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  Trina looked up at him, dazed and panting, but gently pushed him away just the same. Trembling fingers combed through her golden hair, coiling it up into a bun again and magically tucking it in on itself so it stayed without the benefit of the pencil.

  “Wow,” she breathed, shaking her head a little, which let a strand of golden hair fall free. “We need…” She took a deep breath and blew it out, sending the loose strand flying. “We need to cool our jets, Casanova.”

  “Why?”

  Frustration flared in him, but he didn’t try to stop her when she sidestepped him to put space between them. He wasn’t interested in forcing her into something she didn’t want—but she did. Her scent proved it.

  “Listen, I’m…happy about this. That we’re fated mates. You have no idea how happy I am.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” he demanded, advancing on her until she sat on the gurney and put out a hand to slow him down.

  “The problem is,” she said in a firm tone that stopped him in his tracks, “that you really need to lay off the whole ‘Me Tarzan, You Jane’ thing you’ve got going on. I don’t know how it normally goes where you come from, but I have to tell you, it’s off-putting.”

  His first instinct was to balk. Mates fucked, and that was that. But a part of him he thought he’d lost long ago surfaced long enough to remind him that civilized wolves didn’t behave like cavemen. Rubbing the tension from the back of his neck, he nodded.

  “I see.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Max. I want this. I really do. I just…”

  “No, you’re right,” he said, giving her a soft smile. He ran a hand through his overly long, scraggly brown hair and sighed. “I’m sorry, Trina. I haven’t been acting in a way that’s very… becoming.”

  “You’ve been through a lot.”

  In that instant, he knew he loved her. Call it insta-love and piss all over it, but facts were facts. This caring, sweet, intelligent, compassionate woman would be the love of his life, and no one would be able to convince him otherwise.

  “It’s not just that,” he shook his head. “I wouldn’t say this to anyone except you—and yes, I know we’re practically strangers—but I’ve had my suspicions that lone-wolfing it this long has taken its toll.”

  True to her nature, Trina’s brow furrowed in concern. “How so?”

  “First of all, I spend a lot more time shifted than I used to. And the more I do, the more it seems I get caught up too much inside my own head. You know the feeling when you’ve been alone in the same house all day, so much that you start to get a little stir crazy?”

  Trina snorted softly. “Oh yeah.”

  “It’s kind of like that. My wolf and his instincts have been front and center of my mind for so long now that the man I used to be isn’t on his A-game, if that makes sense.”

  His attempt to be lighthearted made Trina nod sympathetically, and Max met her hypnotic gaze with a sheepish smile.

  “How about we start over? Take two.” He held out his hand to her. “Hi, I’m Max Kincaid. Nice to meet you.”

  Her laugh felt like birds chirping in the rustling leaves of the forest. “Let’s not get crazy, Max. I appreciate that you shared what’s going on inside you, and I stand by what I said before. That’s a lot to handle, man or wolf.”

  Giving him a coy smile, she shimmied around until she was stretched out on the gurney. Then she patted the spot next to her, inviting him to join her.

  “Lie down with me, Max. We already know there’s room for two.”

  It took a few extra seconds for him to lie in a position that didn’t shoot jolts of pain through him, but once they were settled on their sides, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close. They stared into each other’s eyes, and Max realized it wouldn’t take much for him to get lost in the eternity of her eyes. They were boundless, limitless, full of promise.

  “You’re one hell of a healer,” he murmured, his fingers stroking light circles on her hip.

  She smiled. “Well, I’ve never had a patient quite like you before. Actually, I’ve never met a lone wolf before either. It must be so difficult running without a pack for support. Do… do you like it?”

  He felt her worry before she even spoke the words. She was afraid he’d run off again or expect her to leave her pack behind to join him.

  “No,” he replied emphatically. “I hate it.”

  “Then why…”

  He broke their connection and looked beyond her, into the past. It was a scary, ugly place. It hadn’t always been, of course, but all he saw now was the suffering.

  “I used to have a pack. Now I don’t.”

  He could almost feel the questions racing around in her brain, but she remained expressionless and just watched him. Without another word, she pulled his head to the cradle of her neck and held him. It felt so natural and so nurturing that he could have fallen asleep right then and there—if his body wasn’t on fire from her touch.

  Her hands caressed his face, his neck, his chest, but he held himself in check. Tarzan might have been a sex god back in the day, but Trina deserved his patience. If she wanted to wait, he would, as trying as it might be. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long.

  Her fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, fluttering along the edge of his lower lip. Her gaze lingered there too, and then she unknowingly licked her own lips. He watched as a mysterious battle raged inside her, and then her head inched closer and closer until their lips were almost touching. Trina’s eyes finally fell closed and a sigh whispered against his mouth as she closed the distance between them.

  This kiss was much gentler than their previous ones. Slow, soft, sweet. Just like Trina. Much to his surprise and delight, he liked it too.

  It soothed him.

  It soothed his beast.

  It soothed his wounded soul.

  Holding back just enough so he wouldn’t seem brutish, Max let his hands wander over her body again, this time more slowly and purposefully. While their lips flirted and their tongues danced, their hands became acquainted with each other’s body. Taking things slowly had never been so delicious.

  Max and Trina became lost in each other, forgetting the clock as they explored e
ach other. It was heaven, and Max didn’t think he could be any happier than in that moment. Then her fingers brushed against the fabric that barely covered his throbbing cock, and his wolf howled for more.

  He couldn’t resist pressing into the palm of her hand, breathing in her scent and her desire as if they were necessary for his survival. She grew bolder, wriggling her way under the gown and touching his hot flesh. He gasped and wrapped his fingers around her arm, which encouraged her to do the same. Only not to his arm.

  “Oh god,” he groaned against her smiling lips, ready to flip her on her back and mount her but determined to go at her pace.

  She stroked him once, twice…

  Then a gust of fresh air slapped him in the face. Breaking free from their kiss, they both shot surprised looks at the door. The open door.

  Warren stood there, red-faced and gaping, before he clapped a hand over his eyes.

  “Gross!”

  Chapter Seven

  Only her brother could have such bad timing—twice! Warren stood with his back to them as the would-be lovers disentangled their limbs, tapping his foot impatiently and huffing like a petulant child. Trina hopped deftly from the gurney while Max gingerly pulled himself into a sitting position and covered the evidence of his arousal with a sheet.

  “Are you decent yet?” Warren groused.

  “We were never indecent,” she snarled in reply. “Oh, for god’s sake, turn around.”

  He did so very slowly, just to make a point, and then peeked from between his spread fingers to make sure the coast was clear. Dumbass!

  “You need to learn how to use the lock, sis,” he said, his lips pulled back in distaste.

  “Or you need to learn how to knock,” she retorted. “This is the second time today you’ve barged in here.”

  “Well, it’s never been a problem before. Now has it?”

  “Damn right, it hasn’t,” muttered Max.

  Trina rounded on him and gave him a well-deserved glare. “Not helping, Max. Not helping at all.”

  He held his hands up in surrender but didn’t look the least bit sorry. Trina pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration and then turned back to her brother. “What do you want, Warren?”

  “What I want is for that rando wolf over there to keep his mangy paws off my sister!”

  In spite of his wound, Max stood and pulled himself to his full, very impressive height, glowering at Warren. She didn’t need her wolf to tell her he was getting pretty irritated. Time to diffuse the situation.

  “Calm down, both of you,” she barked with an air authority she rarely felt except in medical emergencies. “This is a clinic, not a fight club!”

  “But—” Warren started.

  “No!” she interrupted, wagging a finger at him. “This so-called ‘rando wolf’ just so happens to be my mate and he can put his paws wherever I let him. And this may come as a surprise to you, big brother, but you do not get to have an opinion about that. Understand?”

  The full meaning of her words clearly landed on Warren like 747 coming in for a crash landing. His mouth fell open, his eyes went wide, and his face paled. When his chin quivered, she could no longer hold onto her anger. She wasn’t used to confrontation, much less where Warren was concerned, but that wasn’t what brought tears to her eyes.

  “Your… mate? Really?” he croaked out, color flooding back into his face and his eyes glittering with emotion too strong to hold.

  Trina smiled broadly and nodded, the tears jerking free and spilling down her cheeks. “Really,” she whispered.

  He took one stiff, open-armed step toward her and Trina rushed into his embrace, resting her cheek against her brother’s chest as her tears stained his shirt. He hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head while Max stood back and let the siblings have their moment.

  “Oh my god, sis,” he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. “I told you so. I knew this was going to happen one day. I told you. You should really listen to me more often.”

  “I just couldn’t allow myself to believe it. You know? Not until… it happened.”

  Sniffling loudly, Warren pushed her back and cleared the emotion from his throat. A real manly man, she thought as he stepped past her to reach a hand out to Max. Her mate—how strange that sounded after so long!—didn’t hesitate to grasp her brother’s hand. The tension shifted into joy as the two men smiled at each other.

  Trina had witnessed enough fated mate pairings to know the trust and warmth she felt for Max would not necessarily blossom in her brother’s heart as quickly, but watching them shake hands was enough to get her all choked up again. She could hardly believe it. She wasn’t dreaming, and yet… it felt like a dream.

  Best.

  Dream.

  Ever.

  “Congratulations, man,” Warren said, slapping Max’s back a little too hard for her taste. He was still healing, after all. “I hope you understand just how lucky you are. You’ve managed to snare the most amazing female in our pack, maybe even the whole world. You won’t find a wolf on this planet better than my sister. You need to know that.”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I knew from the first second I caught her scent on the breeze,” Max replied with such genuine emotion it took Trina by surprise.

  “Good. Treat her right, man, because if you ever—and I mean ever—do anything to harm my sister, you will have the wrath of the entire Soren pack to contend with. And trust me, you do not want that, my friend.”

  Trina tensed again, worried Warren might have pushed it a little too far. Max was a lone wolf and his beast was not quite so effortlessly contained as most pack wolves tended to be. But to her relief, Max nodded somberly as he withdrew his hand.

  “I would expect nothing less. Just so you know, I fully intend to give her the world and then some.”

  Tears misted Trina’s eyes all over again while her brother and her new mate shared their poignant moment. She’d spent the previous nine years believing such a thing could never happen, never once dreaming it might actually be possible.

  In the shifter world, it was unheard of for one wolf to have two fated mates in a single lifetime. Or more accurately, she’d never heard of such a thing. More commonly, when someone’s fated mate passed away, they might eventually find a gentler, less-connected love for another mate, but it wouldn’t have the same passion and cell-deep bond. That was nice for those wolves, but Trina had tasted perfection in her first mate, Dean and nothing less would do. How the hell had she sidestepped fate?

  Just to reassure herself that the scene before her wasn’t simply the best dream ever, she pinched the soft flesh of her inner forearm.

  Ow!

  So… not a dream. It was really happening. This was her life now, and joy nearly bubbled out of her in the form of a giggle at the thought.

  “Despite what you might be thinking, I’m not actually a peeping Tom,” Warren said to Max. “I came here for a reason, which—surprise, surprise—wasn’t to have the image of my little sister giving you a handy burned into my brain.”

  Max grinned as Warren shuddered away the memory. Trina thought maybe she should be embarrassed, but she wasn’t. Not even a little.

  “What’s up?” she snuggled into the crook of Max’s arm.

  “The Soren pack alpha would like to extend a cordial invitation to your guest to accompany him on a visit to our old friend Dick McNish.”

  “What?” Trina blurted. “But why? He gave me twenty-four hours!”

  “Simmer down, sis. Zeke said he suspected Max might actually want to join them.”

  “No,” she shook her head fiercely. “No way. It’s entirely too dangerous. He isn’t well enough yet. He just got shot, for criminy sakes!”

  “Trina, he’s the alpha.” A note of warning filled Warren’s tone that only pissed her off more.

  “Just because Zeke is the alpha doesn’t mean he’s always right about everything, you know. He’s screwed up plenty of times since taking over for his dad.” r />
  Warren’s lips pressed into an angry, thin line and he crossed his arms across his chest. “Watch yourself, sis. Just because you don’t understand his logic doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”

  “Are you calling me stupid?” Trina snapped, anger blazing so hot she half-hoped her fiery gaze would shoot across the room and smack her smartass brother upside his head.

  “What? No! I’m not calling you stupid. I’m not calling you anything, except maybe a little stubborn. You may be smart. You may be competent. But at the end of the day, you are not the alpha. Zeke is. He is the one who calls the shots, even the ones you don’t like.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Warren.”

  “Well, then stop acting like one.”

  Heat flooded Trina’s face. “How dare you! You come in here, telling us that Zeke wants Max—who just got shot yesterday, in case you forgot—to go meet with the man who wants all of us dead, and then you start insulting me? Not in my house, bro!”

  She was really going to let him have it. How could he ask her to risk her mate’s life like that? He, better than anyone, knew what she’d been through, how she’d suffered over the last decade. But as she moved to get all up in his face, Max’s big, warm fingers wrapped around her wrist. A blanket of bliss fell over the fire inside her, calming her instantly.

  “Stop, Trina,” he said quietly, but with a force that echoed through the room. “I want to go.”

  When she opened her mouth to object, he interrupted her.

  “I’m not trying to be Tarzan here, but I’m not about to sit around and be Jane.”

  Warren looked utterly confused by this analogy, but Trina didn’t have the energy to be amused. She was too frightened by what might happen.

  “This is an honor,” Max insisted. “I’ve been invited by my mate’s alpha to take part in an important mission, and by god, I’m not going to turn him down.”

  Once again, she tried to object, and once again, he interrupted her. This time with a kiss so deep and dominant that she almost forgot what they’d been talking about. Sneaky, but effective.