Zena Wynn: Claiming Shayla

To my sister, who waited three long years to find out “What happened to Shayla?” I hope the story was worth the wait.

She stood under the shower, washing the musky scent of cum and sweat from her body. The hot water beat down on her, loosening muscles sore from days and nights of marathon sex. The glide of the cloth across her clit caused her to hiss as the overly sensitive bundle of nerves reacted by shooting a streak of fire straight through her womb. “No! You’ve had enough,” she told it. As it was, she wouldn’t be walking straight anytime soon.

It was hunger that finally drove her out of the shower. If she didn’t get some food into her system soon, she’d pass out. She’d expended too many calories and eaten nothing to replace them. Her stomach cramped, a reminder of its emptiness. She rubbed her abdomen, trying to soothe the knotted muscles. “And you, give me a second, will ya? Let me get out of the bathroom, and then I’ll feed you.”

Already mentally cataloging the contents of the refrigerator, she opened the bathroom door. He was on her in an instant. Before a cry could escape, he had her back pressed forcefully against the wall beside the bathroom door. His menacing growl sent chills down her spine. Lifting her to eye level, he spoke out of a mouth already partially shifted to wolf, revealing a jaw full of razor-sharp teeth. “You washed off my scent.”

Before her mind finished deciphering what he was saying, his tongue was in her mouth and his cock in her pussy. All thoughts of food forgotten, she wrapped her legs around his waist and hung on.

“More. Need more,” he growled. He grabbed her by the thighs and bent her in half until her knees pressed against the wall along the sides of her torso, holding her immobile.

Not being a contortionist, the position should have been uncomfortable, but she was too aroused. Her nails dug into his shoulders as her head bounced off the wall with each upward thrust. She fought him, wanting to move, needing to move like she needed her next breath.

She could feel her orgasm building, tightening every muscle in her body. She couldn’t catch her breath. It felt like she was going to explode. She opened her mouth to scream…

Bzzzzz! Bzzzzz! Bzzzzz! Shayla Morgan jumped as her cell phone vibrated, goosing her. Shit! She’d been dreaming. Again. This had to stop. She looked around to see if anyone noticed her strange behavior. A crowded plane was not the best place to have a wet dream. No one was looking at her, thank God. That meant she hadn’t cried out in her sleep…this time.

Her breathing was labored, just as in the dream. Her nipples were tight and so sensitive even the gentle abrasion of her T-shirt irritated them. Her clit throbbed. She was right on the edge. Just one stroke, one simple touch and she would explode.

Bzzzz! She jerked again and snatched her cell phone out of her cargo pants’ thigh pocket. A new text message was in her in-box. She didn’t recognize the number but retrieved it anyway, needing a distraction.

Need you.

What the hell? Must be a wrong number. She shoved the phone back into her pocket. It would be another forty-five minutes before she could get off the plane. She should have brought her laptop or a book to read. All this sitting would drive her crazy, and she couldn’t chance taking another nap.

Bzzzz! She jumped again. What now? She took out her phone and pressed the Display Message button.

Want you.

Same number. It wasn’t familiar. She didn’t even recognize the area code. She closed the phone. Before she could stick it back in her pocket, it vibrated again. Eyes narrowed, she flipped it open.

Mine.

The hairs on her nape rose. Thumbs moving rapidly on the keypad, she typed, Who’s this?

Mate.

Shayla shook her head. It couldn’t be him, the one who was still haunting her dreams three weeks later—Rory McFelan.

Mate who?

The reply was swift.

Shayla. Mate. Mine.

Oh damn. It was Rory. Her cousin Kiesha must have given him her number. She stared at the message. As she did, the curve of her neck throbbed, a reminder of the marks on her shoulder. Time to stop the madness. She punched the words in the keyboard.

Not yours. Sex. Fun. Over.

There. That should be plain enough.

Agreed. Claimed. Mine. Forever.

Then again, maybe not. She’d forgotten whom, or rather, what she was dealing with. The man was possibly more stubborn than she. Her conversation with Kiesha came back to her.

“So, if I were to find myself extremely attracted to a shifter and wanted to indulge, I could do so as long as I didn’t let him bite me?”

“Shay, don’t even think about it. If you’re attracted to one of them and you don’t want to find yourself mated, don’t let them close to you. A strong physical attraction is a major sign of a true mate. It’s not simply a matter of not getting bit. If you have sex with one, you’ll be so caught up in the pleasure that you’ll never notice him biting you, not until it’s too late,” Kiesha warned. “This is no time to indulge your curiosity.”

“They’re that good in the sack?” Shayla asked as her neglected libido raised its head in hunger.

“Shay, seriously, this is not something to play with. These guys are serious, and they play for keeps. They won’t put up with your games.”

Shayla had ignored the warning and indulged her curiosity at the first opportunity that presented itself. Three days and four nights of continuous, mind-blowing sex had been the result. Almost a month later and she was still dreaming about it. She shivered, and her clit pulsed again, begging for attention.

Bzzzz! Bzzzz! She looked down to see a new message.

Waiting. Will claim what’s mine.

Well, hell. Now she’d gone and done it. Kiesha was going to kill her. In three weeks’ time Shayla was returning to Refuge, North Carolina, to be in her cousin’s wedding, and it sounded like Rory would be there waiting. There would be no way to avoid him. He would ensure it. And she couldn’t appeal to Kiesha for help. She’d been warned. Now it was up to her to deal with the consequences.

Rory McFelan smiled as he closed his phone.

“That’s a mighty feral smile, my friend. I pity the person it’s directed toward.”

Rory gazed across the table at Caleb Jones, his second in command and the closest thing he had to a friend in the Sparrowhawk pack. At one time he’d anticipated having this man become his brother-in-law, although he knew now it was not to be. “The systems analyst we hired to streamline the pack’s operations. She’ll be here soon.”

“Our systems analyst, hmm? I can smell your lust. With all that’s going on in the pack, are you sure bringing your latest conquest here is such a good idea? Especially a weak human?”

Shannon’s defection to the Raven pack had left a void for the position of alpha-fem. The few eligible females that remained after the hunt were driving him crazy, each hoping to move up and take her place. The infighting was getting ridiculous. Shay’s arrival would put an end to all of it.

“She’s my one.” Rory watched carefully to see what Caleb’s reaction would be. This was the first time he’d revealed to any of his pack that he’d taken a mate.

Caleb jerked forward in his seat. “You found a mate?”