Unwanted Fates~ Book Two

“C’mon. Grow, dammit.”

After a week of practice and a day squatting around the vegetable patches, Sylvie was spent. Her bones ached from the exertion.

“You’ve provided us with enough food to sustain us through winter. So I think you can relax now, Vee,” Rosie said, walking the perimeter, passing a tomato the size of a softball between her hands.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

“I know,” Sylvie replied, even though she knew she definitely did. Not pulling her weight wasn’t an option, no matter how often Kian tried to convince her that pack hierarchies don’t expect high-ranking shifters to participate in the ‘menial’ jobs.

For one, she wasn’t a shifter, and two, she resented the idea that providing for the people who sheltered, fed and trained them was menial. Kian shut right up soon after that argument—bloody Princes.

“How did you even know you could do this,” Rosie asked then, standing at Sylvie’s side. “Making the plants grow...”

“I didn’t know,” Sylvie replied with a shrug. “Natalie made a joke about it, and I just tried. It was all guesswork.” It really was. It took two days for her to see any growth at all, and anyone watching her staring intently at the weeds in the garden probably thought she was insane.

“Well, it’s cool as hell.”

Smiling, Sylvie stood, brushed the dirt off her palms onto a pair of overalls she borrowed from the laundry, and turned to the wheelbarrow of oversized fruits and veg.

That day’s crop harvest was two giant pumpkins, a dozen brassicas, two cucumbers a meter long and a bucket full of berries. Her heart swelled as she spotted Rowan’s eyes flick sidelong at her, his posture relaxed and a half-smile quirking his full lips.

Damn.

“Look out!”

Sylvie yelped as Rosie gripped her shoulders and forced her arms to turn the barrow out of the way of a rapidly approaching tree.

“You don’t want to lose all the food you’ve just grown!”

Blushing and suppressing a fit of giggles, Sylvie locked her eyes on the path ahead, pushing the large load to the kitchens of the main house. Packhouse, Rosie reminded her every day that week.

“But only Rowan lives here, so how can it be the ‘Pack house’?” she had asked in a huff.

“Just is,” Rosie had replied.

At that moment, she wished she could disappear into the ‘pack house’ and not feel the burning heat along her side where she knew Rowan’s gaze raked. After his gallant rescue and trip to Amira to reapply healing salve, he had been much softer with her, not speaking much but staring openly across the spaces they shared like schoolchildren at recess.

It wasn’t lost on Sylvie that the full moon was approaching once more, and they would be forced to have sex whether she liked it or not, and she discovered ‘liking him’— at least as a person— didn’t hurt half as bad as hating him with a blinding passion.

Her retrospection halted as Kian jogged down the side entrance of the packhouse, where Sylvie usually accessed the kitchens.

“Hi!”

“Hi!” Sylvie lowered her barrow to throw her arms around Kian and kiss him hard. Maybe a little too hard.

He stiffened and forced them apart by tilting his forehead against hers. “Ouch,” he whispered. “Less primal passion, please.”

Rosie choked behind them and declared she was heading off, but Sylvie only waved her away, her brow furrowing.

“Are you rejecting my love?”

Kian chuckled and tucked her unruly waves behind her ears. “Of course not, but I imagine that kiss was owed to someone else.”

Sylvie’s jaw hung slack, and she detached herself from Kian crossing her arms in a huff. “I’d never kiss you and think of anyone else, Kian.”

He shook his head and reached for her, apology written in his dark eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that, Princess." But the apology dwindled, and something else took its place. Something that made her frown.

"And I think you know that,” he said.

A twinge of annoyance and disbelief flooded her senses as she pulled away a second time. “And I think you are an insufferable bastard!”

She picked up the barrow, pushing it beside the kitchen door and hoisted the pumpkin into her arms, proud of how her newfound muscles hardly complained as she waddled up the two steps to the kitchen. A wave of playful energy surged from Kian, and Sylvie hid her smile behind the pumpkin.

“And I think your bratty attitude may be meant for another certain someone, as my wife would never dare call me names.”

A light tap hit her ass cheek, and she squeaked, shoving the pumpkin on the bench before swivelling with her hands up to stop any more childish assaults. “Watch it, pretty boy.”

“Oh? Is that how you want to play?” Kian’s mouth twitched, each corner threatening a grin as he stalked closer, looking half-feral.

“Wait! Wait...” she reasoned. “I- I didn’t mean it.” He continued approaching, his eyes narrowing. Sylvie pushed her hands in front of her, using them as a shield, her back pressing into the counters. “Stay back with those demon eyes.”

Kian’s severe facade broke then, a laugh bursting from his lips as he pounced, wrapping his arms around Sylvie and throwing her over his shoulder. “Demon eyes?”

Sylvie giggled, too, wriggling to get more comfortable on Kian’s shoulder. “Where are you taking me? I have dinner to help prepare.”

“We have time. I asked Natalie to step in for dinner chores so we could speak.”

His hand running suggestively up her inner thigh forced a groan from her.

“Speak, huh?”

“Mhmm.”

Their bedroom now had more items; clothes, a few weapons and potted plants Sylvie had been tending for Amira, mostly herbs and medicinal flowers lined the windowsill.

Throwing her onto the bed, Kian remained standing, gazing across her sprawled, panting form.

“You’re beautiful.”

“As are you.”

He hovered above her, placing his hands on either side of her head to cage her. “The full moon is nearing. Do you feel the effects yet?”

Sylvie swallowed and wiggled her fingers and toes as if they could indicate her symptoms. “I don’t think so-”

“Good. I’ve been feeling your lust all week, and I’m about to explode.”

Waves of shame and heat rushed through her, which Kian quickly doused with a smile and kiss. “I’m not mad, Princess. I’m happy you’re finally coming around to the idea of Rowan-”

“Could we talk about something else?” Struggling up onto her elbows, the initial giddiness of Kian’s advances had suddenly turned to stomach-churning guilt. What would Elias think of her now? Even the thought of him created an aching pain in her chest.

“Do you think Elias is okay?”

Kian sat back and adjusted his position so they could speak face to face, no longer pressing against one another with a sexual charge sparking between them. Silently, she thanked him for his understanding. Always the gentleman.

“How is your mark?”

Sylvie fingered her chest; the crimson pattern hummed beneath her fingertips. She found herself massaging the empty spot on her chest, the unfinished marking leaving a hollow sensation where Rowan’s crest should have gone. Then, blinking away the thought of the shifter, she turned her gaze back to Kian.

“Feels the same.”

“Then he’s fine. Besides, he’d want you to be happy, not moping.”

Sylvie hummed and swayed forward, letting her head rest against his bicep. It twitched as she tilted her face and kissed it. “What have you been up to this week?” she whispered into the fabric of his shirt.

“Mostly warding and aiding border patrols against the Rogues. Though their scents have been dwindling since they last appeared, I’m hoping they won’t return. The last thing the shifters need is infighting on top of their Vampire problem.”

News of Kian’s noble adventures of the week sent a rush of desire through Sylvie, and he seemed to notice. Their bedroom eyes slowly adorned their faces, and their breathing deepened.

“You’ve been busy,” she panted, slowly tugging off the snaps of her overalls and letting them fall with a soft rattle.

“As have you,” Kian replied, whisking his shirt over his head in one fell swoop.

“We haven’t had much time as husband and wife these past few weeks.” She lifted her ass just high enough to slide off her bottoms while keeping half-masted eye contact.

“Well then, let’s make up for lost time.”

In a flurry of strewn clothes, desperate limbs and hot, wet kisses, They tumbled across their bed, searching for connection. They found it as Sylvie’s legs wrapped around Kian’s midriff, pulling his hardness to her slick softness.

Unlike the heated fucking she loved from Elias, Kian’s touch pulled soft mewls of delight from her lips as he rocked his hips against her in a slow, deep rhythm. Making pure, sweet, perfect love. Their breathing synced as their desire mounted, a subtle quaver to their breaths spurring the other’s climax faster and surer than anything they had ever known.

The memory of Kian’s gallant command during the tournament and his proclamation to the shifters that she was his wife drew tears from her eyes, and blissful moans pealed forth.

“Why are you crying, my love?” He thumbed the clear pearls beading down her cheeks as she sighed.

“I just love you,” she replied, coiling her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him in the hopes he would continue.

He did, keeping his pace smooth and steady as she focused all her thought on him and the peace she felt held steadfastly in his embrace.

His lips linked with hers, and his rhythm faltered as his own orgasm neared, but nothing would interfere with Sylvie’s finish. Instead, the thought of his orgasm— his desire for her— pushed her over the edge even before the real thing filled her.

Their moans echoed around the room, the high of their lovemaking not letting them feel an ounce of shame that the rest of the pack likely heard them. They stayed joined until Kian softened, and Sylvie slid up on his body, basking in the heat of his dark skin.

“I love you,” Kian murmured into her hair, twirling a strand between his fingertips.

“And I love you.”

Screams pulled Sylvie from her post-orgasm nap, and she jumped from the bed, automatically searching for clothes. The sky outside was dark, and she scurried around on the floor, locating her training gear that had fallen from her previous romp. The room felt empty, and her nakedness no longer filled her with comfort but vulnerability and fear.

“Kian?” she whispered as she finished dressing, but as suspected, he had already gone. Why didn’t he wake her? She shook a fuzzy haze from her mind and wondered if he had messed with her somehow to keep her from the fight that still raged in the distance.

Refusing to think on it any longer, she ran from the room and down the flight of stairs towards the furious shouts barrelling straight into a solid mass of flesh.