For a moment, he thought he had her. His front paws slamming against her hips. But she easily spun and slapped him with her paw, ripping into one side of his muzzle.
Jessie didn’t even stop, merely ran off in a different direction. Smitty turned and followed. Again pushing her where he wanted her. This time toward snow-covered rocks.
She leaped up but couldn’t keep her footing and slid across, then off the big stones. She quickly scrambled to her feet, but she’d lost precious time. Smitty tackled her from behind, shoving her hard to the ground. She kept fighting him, though. Her paws slashing at him as she tried to get out from under him, her jaw snapping at his. Not a fake fight. Not a show of a struggle. She fought him like her life depended on it—because it did. Her future life. Their lives together. Which was why he didn’t give up. He’d never give up where Jessie Ann was concerned.
It took some doing and a lot of slashes to his chest and side, but he finally forced her onto her back. He immediately wrapped his maw around her throat, the additional fur protecting her throat tickling his nose. He bit down hard and shook her.
Jess wiggled, trying to get out of his grasp, but he growled and bit down harder, shaking her one more time. Making his intentions, his demands, very clear.
Jessie Ann stopped moving, stopped fighting. She panted. She waited.
He held on a little longer. Long enough to make sure she wouldn’t run again. Not merely at this moment, but ever.
She let out a sigh and her body relaxed beneath his. That’s when he knew.
Smitty unhinged his jaw and nuzzled her neck, licking the blood off where he’d buried his fangs.
At the same moment, they shifted back to human. She had faint bite marks in her throat and blood on her cheek where it had dripped from his face. Her claws had ripped a rather healthy chunk out of his flesh. He dragged his hand across his cheek, wiping off the blood. He ignored the rips in his chest—they weren’t that deep.
It hurt, what she did to him. Physically, it hurt like a bitch. But emotionally, it only proved what he’d already known. Only Jessie Ann could push him like this. Only Jessie Ann could bring out the wolf inside him and face it head-on. He’d been fighting it so hard, for years. Afraid that by letting out the wolf, he’d be letting out the Smith. But he wasn’t his daddy. He wasn’t his brothers. He was Bobby Ray, and he’d be damned if he didn’t take the woman he wanted, who loved him more than anything, and make her his the only way predators could.
No wonder she’d been so mad. A Smith courting must have seemed an insult to her when she’d known damn good and well how Smiths took their mates. They didn’t call it a Smith mate-maul jokingly.
But that’s what she’d deserved. Because no one else matched him as perfectly as Jessie Ann. As different as they were, they still belonged together. She’d challenge him again, and next time... hell, next time she’d probably win.
Jess forced herself not to wince when she saw how badly she’d fucked up his face. Thank God the Smith wolves weren’t so much pretty as hot. The scar that would leave might make some guys look less attractive. Not Smitty. It would make him look even hotter.
As he flashed his fangs at her, Jess felt no fear. No regret. Nothing but a need to be fucked and marked by her mate that went deeper than anything inside her had before.
He turned her over roughly, forcing her onto all fours. Nope. There’d be no going back to the bed for this coupling. There’d be no romance, soft lights, jazz music, and high threadcount sheets. There’d be no condoms.
She wasn’t in heat and she was on the pill. Chances were low to nonexistent she’d get pregnant. But that didn’t matter. Not to the Smith males. When they claimed a female, they claimed a female. And like the canines they were, they’d do it out here. In nature. Something both of them were elementally a part of.
Smitty leaned over her, his lips dragging across her back, his tongue licking her spine. One hand slid beneath her and rested against her stomach, holding her in place; the other hand braced Smitty above her. Like most things when it came to Smitty, he didn’t rush this. Her wolf took his time. Brushing his head against her shoulders, his nose against the back of her neck. Strong, powerful thighs pressed against the back of hers and she could feel his hard cock resting against her ass.
He kissed her neck, moving down until he reached her shoulder. He licked a spot there. Once, twice. Then his mouth opened and wrapped around the muscle. She closed her eyes, preparing for the pain.
And it hurt. God, it hurt! This wasn’t soft and gentle and sweet. Fangs brutally tore through flesh and muscle, digging against bone. Her yelp of pain didn’t stop him. She didn’t expect it to.
Jess gasped and whimpered, instinctively trying to pull away, but the more she struggled the harder Smitty held on. His arms wrapped around her, keeping her tight against him, trying to keep her still. Then his cock pushed against her, demanding entrance inside her pussy. Demanding and receiving.
It wasn’t until he pushed home that she realized how wet she was. How ready for him. So ready that as soon as he slammed inside her, the first orgasm washed over her without his having to do much of anything. He held on to her as her body shook and she cried out, the sound echoing off the leafless trees.
Smitty waited until she shook and groaned through that first one, until the panting slowed down. He waited until she realized it wasn’t over. Then he used his body to force the top half of her close to the ground while pushing her ass up higher. He readjusted his grip on her shoulder, dragging another cry of pain from her when he settled his fangs back inside her flesh; then he drove into her body without pity, without mercy. A Smith wolf claiming his mate in absolutely no uncertain terms.
And with each vicious, nearly cruel thrust, she felt how much he loved her. It was weird. Something a full-human would never understand. Yet Jess knew. Knew that as surely as he’d always call her Jessie Ann—no matter how much she hated it—he would always love her. He’d die for her. Protect their pups. Protect her Pack while protecting his own. He’d do whatever he could to make her happy.
One of the arms gripping her tight loosened and the fingers slid down her belly, between her legs. He stroked her clit several times until he gripped it and squeezed. Jess broke again, this time her gasps turning into sobs. Sobs of release. Sobs of triumph. She’d finally gotten him. She’d gotten her wolf.
Yet even as she knew they were perfect for each other, she also knew that she’d always drive him crazy. She’d always confuse him. Confound him. Make him wonder, “What the hell is she going on about now?” She’d never give him a moment’s peace. And he’d always annoy her, talk as slowly as humanly possible, if he said anything at all. He’d always think she was weird. And he’d laugh at her more often than not. Their pups would grow up to be crazed wolfdogs. Part of a group of hybrids so dangerously unstable, Prides and wolf Packs all over the country went out of their way to keep them out of the shifter-only towns and resorts.
But they’d be theirs. Ward-Smith “freaky little bastards,” as Sabina often called her own children. They’d be theirs and no other pups would ever be as loved or as confused as they.
Jess braced her forearms against the freezing cold ground, balancing her body so Smitty could drive inside her harder, faster. So he could make her come again.
And he did.
She screamed out, the sounds of her release echoing off the snow-covered trees as her body pushed back into his every thrust. Meeting him, stroke for stroke. Squeezing his cock until he thought both his heads would explode.